Making Bread (edited)

Flour in the air,
Flour in her hair.
Flour on the door,
Flour on the floor.

What a chore,
Flour is here and there.
She's painting her arms,
Her cheeks powder fair.

No more sweet rosey smiles.
Just sifted flowered,
giggles in the air
with the bleached flour

Dusty white pats,
on black springy twists.
Baby brown hands,
now lightly white.

Flour everywhere,
time to be...
Clean.
brown with rosey cheeks.

it's tacit...
I love her brown
I love her white
oh, what a chore
I adore.